A Scout
by TheLionfart
Summary: "I'm sorry for all the fuss, but we have rather good news for you... And a bit of bad news." Sebastian was skeptical, but nodded with a quirked brow. "And it couldn't wait?" The Devil sighed, shaking his head. "No. It could not." He grinned. "Someone found your mate." (Seb X OC. Full warnings inside. Numerous OCs, AU set after end of anime.)
1. Mate

A/N: Hello all! Welcome to my first attempt into the world of Black Butler. So far I've only seen the anime but God, it's so awesome. 8O I don't think anything will ever be the same. There's lots of cool BB fanfics out there (that I shamelessly stole some of the interesting elements from, but I'm pretty sure none of your BB fanfic writers even know where half of those began your all using them so much, so…) so I hope I don't screw this up too bad. As always, my fanfiction isn't ever really that serious, but reviews and critiques are appreciated! And before you ask, YES, I think I've got a crying fetish or something… (Also, side note: I am actually pleased with Apple. iOS 9 is allowing me to upload Mircosoft Word docs from Dropbox onto fanfiction, so no more weird *italics!* It's more like _italics_ now, y'know? WOO!)

UPDATE: Since this 'one-shot' has gotten so much attention, it will be continued, and this chapter has been updated to match the ongoing plot.

WARNINGS: Abuse, mentions of rape, sexual themes, nudity.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Black Butler. (Sadly.) But I do own my stuff, y'know, characters and plot and such, so don't go claiming that as your own.

* * *

The hours were pitch black, unnerving, dragging on and on as she sat in the stillness. They came and went, and she sensed them, sensed what they _were._ How wicked, what horrible creatures; their sneers and cackles echoing in the void of her prison. The things the others did to her were less painful than they were demoralizing. Touches where she hoped to never be touched; caresses she knew should not feel so loveless. And then, with the slam of a door that she had heard many times, she somehow knew they were all done with her. It had ended.

And disturbing her peace was a faint whisper. _It has just begun._

* * *

Gatherings amongst demons were rare, Sebastian knew. Never to congratulate a fellow damned on their latest finished contract, and never just for the company. Demons were not social creatures; they were in competition after the mortal creations' souls, after all. No, something was off here. He knew that the only time demons were called together was to discuss issues… And if the Devil was involved, punishment could also be the subject…

The raven haired demon stood before the Lord of the Underworld with some trepidation because of these facts. Around the pantheon - their gathering place - flocked dozens of new and old faces, hundreds of hellish eyes watching the proceedings with interest. It had not been long before he returned home - moments, actually - before a messenger had stopped him and demanded his presence in the deepest layer. And when he had arrived, he was shoved into the Devil's audience in a matter of minutes.

So he stood and waited; apparently there was quite a bit of commotion to do with this meeting, and he knew it was in his best interests to be patient, eager though he was to return home and check on his estate.

Finally the Dark Lord turned from the small group surrounding his throne to regard Sebastian. Sebastian, ancient as he was, knew Ahasuerus quite well. And the smirk adorning his face was quite unusual for the King.

He stood up, taking a walk towards Sebastian leisurely. He stopped in the dirt and dust of the pantheon floor and brought his hand out to Sebastian, which the demon took. "I'm sorry for all the fuss, but we have rather good news for you… And a bit of bad news."

Sebastian was skeptical, but nodded with a quirked brow. "And it couldn't wait?"

The Devil sighed, shaking his head. "No. It could not."

He grinned. "Someone found your mate."

* * *

The chains rattled, laughs echoing in the hall, making her breathing excelerate. The man holding her tied hands kissed her roughly, hands traveling. "Don't worry, little scout, your time is up." Yanking her by her hair, he dragged her out, she not making a sound.

Speckles of light occasionally flickered from a candle or torch, though she wished the place would stay in total darkness. Screaming men, women, and children, all a cacophony of horror together, was what invaded her ears. Deeper into the complex they went, and further to what she knew must have been her end.

A door swung open and the man walked through, pulling her to her feet. It took her a second to adjust to the blinding light, and a few more moments to see the statues before her were actually living men. They stood at the walls and in the ceiling, only two figures standing in the blinding light.

One, she recognized. The perpetrator. The leader. His name was Harvard. And she hoped that would be the last thing she ever knew about the man. His eyes were mad, his hands stained in real, fresh blood. And the man next to him she did not know. But she knew he wasn't a man.

Blazing red eyes tracked her, seeing things, smelling things no human could. She had met many of the disguised demons in her time here, all of them leaving her a few moments after laying eyes on her. But this one was different, she could tell. He acted as if he had been expecting her for a while now, something of a relieved smile on his face.

Harvard spoke. "She is yours." Simple, clear, and direct, which made her tremble. The demon approached, taking her from the man that led her here.

Their eyes met, and she swore his blazed just a bit more on contact with her skin. A hand reached up to grab her jaw, a thumb brushing over her lips. The almost hysterical smile grew wider. "You have a very special specimen in your hands."

His hand went to the hem of her shirt and jerked it over her head, leaving her bare in the light. His eyes settled below her breasts, on the dark mark that had been cut and sawed away at for the past few months. Her captors had tried everything to rile the demon they thought held her in a contract, and were always angered by the empty crying that went unanswered by a hell-spawn. "Yes. Quite valuable. To the right demon, at least."

He looked up at Harvard, then back to her, blazing red eyes catching on her features once more. He looked absolutely ravenous. "Are you sure?"

"She is of no use to us." The leader stood perfectly still, then added: "You know your end of the bargain."

The demon's face did not falter, but his eyes leaned a bit murderous. "Very well then. I will take my… _payment_ in advance, as you suggested."

Hair covered his face as he bent forward, looking down at the girl through lidded eyes. She stared up in horror, unable to move as he covered her mouth with his own, though not passionately as had the men before him. A tongue pushed past her numb lips, exploring as if momentarily lost, then darted down her throat. It burned a trail through her body and into dark depths that she did not know she could feel. And then, the tearing began.

It escalated quickly - something not of her but most definitely her, perhaps on a different pane, being rent and torn from it's surface, then bit at piece by piece. A pain she could not single out blossomed and spread like wildfire, consuming her whole. His eyes were closed, but she felt more than saw his ecstacy - a small moan passing into her oral cavity, his grip on her shoulders tightening. Tears spilled and dropped to the floor onto the demon's shoes, and her vision began to fade, the pain and his face dissolving as the lights started to dim.

But then, it simply stopped. Shouts that should have been louder to her called out, and the demon dropped her abruptly as the world came rushing back. She laid on the floor and watched the figures fall, feeling blood splatter over her feet and face.

And when it was quiet, she sat up, still dizzy with her near death experience. She looked for a living soul and found only one: a pair of simmering red eyes. He crawled out of the darkness like a wrath, surrounded by the death but untouched by it's red stains. Falling black feathers followed his path over the bodies strewn about, radiating a raw power that the demon before could not rival. He stooped down slowly, watching her frozen gaze pin him still. His eyes did not blaze but smoldered, hues different than the other demons she had met. He reached out to touch her mark.

When his hand met the dark circle nestled in between her ribs, she gasped. Through the darkness and exhaustion, pleasure suddenly blossomed from the spot. His fingers made one gentle pet and she was trembling, groaning out. He looked shocked, the shifting pools of flame brightening. "You _are_ my mate."

And with those final words, she let oblivion take her, falling to the floor. Sebastian caught her before she hit the stone, scooping her up and cradling her in his arms.

* * *

She didn't know how long it was before she woke again, but she felt the pain immediately. A dull ache in the strange place where she was but was not lingered, and she trembled vigorously, eyes opening. She was wrapped in blankets warm with her heat, still in the tattered clothes of her captivity. She swam in the images of the dead men, the demon, and her savior.

She bolted upright, her abused body groaning in protest. She was in a dark, simple room, with spartan furnishings and soft candlelight. Her eyes darted over the place, seeing only one exit. But she was paralyzed as soon as that door opened.

A dark, tall figure entered the room, shutting the door softly. Black bangs hung over his lowered face, but she could see the bemused smirk on the man's lips. He looked up, revealing deep and warm amber eyes.

He approached carefully, head tilting as he observed her. His clothes were simple; fabric she could not place, but all dark colors. He stopped a few inches from the bed, looking down at her.

"How are you feeling?" Were his first tentative words, and suddenly, she knew him. Dirty red was replaced with smoldering coals, and those eyes belonged to the man that had killed them all. Not a man, but a _demon._ A demon that had killed them all so _easily._

She jumped away, feeling tears already brimming at the corners of her eyes. The otherworldy ache intensified, and she remembered the darkness that tried to envelope her when the first demon had grasped her soul. She almost stumbled off the bed but froze, unsure what she would do. Because what _could_ she do? He would devour her, just as easily as the other demon had, and she knew it was no use to run.

The man before her froze, hand outstretched to her. His eyes softened, gaze following her movements. Words came out of his mouth in a soft tone, calming, his voice a pleasant high tenor. "I know you're scared, and I know why. So I will assure you: I do not intend to harm you, m'lady."

She trembled, tears still spilling over her cheeks onto her dirty blouse. He must have replaced it, and the ghost trail his hands made in her sleep suddenly crawled, making her shiver. He again approached closer, raising a knee onto the bed. "I know you want an explanation, so I'm going to give it to you."

He reached for her hand and grabbed it before she could snatch it away, grip firm but careful not to hurt her. "Please," he gave a small tug on her arm. "Sit."

She paused, sucking in a breath and considering her options. She waited for him to lunge, to attack, but he just sat still, waiting. She trembled, holding in a sob, and moved back to the middle of the bed where she had been sleeping, pulling the covers over herself.

He helped tuck her in, smoothing the covers over her. He scooted closer, resting fully on the bed before he began. "You know I am a demon, as was the man that tried to take your soul," he stated, waiting for her to nod before he continued.

"I recently finished some business in your world and had just returned to my home." He trailed his fingers over the thick threads in the blanket covering her thighs. "I was informed that a large amount of summonings were being performed by a cult. One demon that answered a summoning claimed he saw an imprisoned human with a demon's mark… A specific mark. A mark that identifies a person as being a demon's soulmate."

He locked his soft gaze with hers, his voice still gentle. "That captured human was you." He lifted a hand, the first thing she saw being his midnight nails, fingers flexing briefly. But as he turned his palm toward him, revealing a black symbol on the back of his hand, she realized that that patch of tattooed skin was familiar. She had seen it many, many times, in mirrors and looking down in baths, and recently, in torture chambers. "You bear my mark, and are thus my soulmate."

He leaned in, and somewhere in the conversation the smirk he had worn had disappeared, leaving a genuine smile. His fingers flicked away the tears off of her cheeks, and then brushed back her dirty hair. "I know this is all much to take in. The best thing to do would be to get you cleaned up and ready for bed, so would you allow me to assist you?"

She gulped, still terrified of him, but nodded slowly. He pulled back the covers and slipped his arms underneath her legs and her back, picking her up. She squeaked in her throat, tears still falling down her cheeks, and he paused. He hugged her close, leaning down to murmur in her ear tenderly. "It's perfectly fine to cry, too."

It took her a second to register his words, but then not a moment longer to take the liberty he offered. Her breaths hitched, sucking in air and then letting out a long wail. He stood and rocked her, switching her position from being carried bridal style to holding her flush against him, one hand on her back and another arm underneath her bottom. Her legs wrapped around his torso on instinct, trying to stay secure in his arms to avoid being dropped. She buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing and sucking in breaths to sob some more. He whispered nothing in particular in her ears, slowly making his way towards his bathroom.

Once inside the stone room, he set her on the counter and attended to her for a few more moments, allowing her to calm down. She sniffled and hiccuped, still grimacing with the effort to hold back tears every few moments. "Now what did I tell you," he admonished gently, wiping her cheeks and nose. She sobbed weakly at that, and he cupped her face in his hands, brushing over her cheekbones and temples.

He left her once she was calm, and she then had a moment to observe her surroundings. A porcelain bathtub was the only thing that was of her world, stone walls, ceiling and floor dominating the atmosphere, like the bedroom. A couple of stools and a chair sat agains the far wall, dusty. Candlelight from half-melted, but recently re-lit sticks illuminated this space as well, the countertop she sat on set with plain tile. Her feet hung, then kicked backwards, finding an open space beneath the shelf.

He returned, a warm rag wiping at her eyes. She let him, but didn't know exactly why she let this stranger be so intimate with her. One hand pressed the rag against her sore eyes and the other grabbed her hand, kneading her joints and fingertips as he seemed to examine her nails. She realized that perhaps a more pressing question was not why she let him do this, but why he _wanted_ to do it.

He was picking her up again, holding her flush against him like an infant and murmuring soothingly into her ears as she started up a small wail. He walked forward a few steps and she realized that water was running, and turned her head around to look.

He had drawn a bath for her, and how inviting the scents were. A thick layer of bubbles frothed the surface like whip topping, and she almost leaped out of his arms into it. But he set her down, turning her around to face the tub and pulling up the hem of her shirt.

She yanked it back down, spinning around as she clutched herself. He held his hands up, smiling. "I promise, I'm not going to hurt you, and you will need help cleaning yourself. This will be painless, my dear."

She sucked in a breath, eyes brimming yet again, and she began to get mad at herself. Why was she crying so much? She had never cried in front of anyone, for doing so meant weakness, and weakness meant punishment. She turned away from Sebastian, hands going to her face to stifle the tears. He turned her back around, though, his embrace becoming more and more familiar as he pulled her into him.

"I think you just need some time to let it out, don't you?" He whispered into her hair, his breath warm on her scalp, his lips warmer when he kissed it. "Yes, let it out… Better now than later."

She clutched at his clothes, weeping bitterly. When her voice started to go hoarse he sat down at the tub's edge and pulled her into his lap. She didn't really know how long they sat there while her tears stained his shirt, or exactly when he started undressing her and lowered her into the tub. The next thing she was really coherent of was his gentle hands scrubbing away at her back, occasionally putting in a long therapeutic stroke down her shoulders and spine.

She wasn't quite prepared, though, when he ventured lower, and almost jumped out of the tub when he ran the rag over her hips. He held her by them, setting her back down and leaning down to whisper in her ear once more. "I will not hurt you. I give you my word."

She sat still again, trembling slightly when a soapy wet hand came to pull back her hair as the other continued it's travel. But, when he found her bottom and began rubbing in circles around her seat bones, she finally lost the last of the tension she had been carrying. She leaned forward, allowing him full access as he finished her bathing.

Once he was done massaging her feet and she was adequately sleepy, he returned to her head at the other end of the tub. He lathered shampoo into her hair, taking his time kneading her scalp and rubbing around her ears. He felt her dozing of in his hands, her head falling limp. He smiled, satisfied that she would be ready for bed as soon as she was dried and fed.

After rinsing her hair out, he helped her stand up, wrapping a towel around her and picking her up slowly. He smiled at the sight of her face, eyes half-lidded and staring blearily at him. He set her on the counter and laid her out, hands rubbing up and down her sides as he contemplated if he was done with his new toy or not.

He touched the smooth skin of her calf and decided no, he would give one finishing touch. Picking her up to move her to a high-backed chair, he pulled a pair of boy shorts on her and a nightgown before setting her down again. He reached into his cabinet and unscrewed a jar, returning to her to find she was already asleep, head lolled to the side and breathing deeply. He chuckled, kneeling down and pulling a foot into his lap, taking some heavy lotion out of the jar and beginning to work it into her legs and feet.

Once all of her skin was thoroughly hydrated, he took her back into his bedroom, letting her sleep while he prepared her dinner. Beans and rice was sadly all he was able to acquire at the moment, but reflecting on it, he realized that was probably for the best. After seeing how thin her bare body was, he knew that she had been malnourished, and would be sensitive to rich foods. He would be careful while feeding her to make sure she didn't become sick.

Propping her up with pillows, he stroked her face to awaken her, offering the spoonful wordlessly once she was aware. She opened her mouth after a moments contemplation, blushing when he fed her. Her eyes darted over the room, curiosity lighting her pupils, but it also seemed she just felt awkward in her predicament. It took quite a bit of power to not grin at her adorable countenance.

After half the food was gone he decided that would be enough, stoking the fire once more before climbing into bed with her. She stiffened slightly when he wrapped his arms around her, but then relaxed when he kissed her hair and murmured more comforting noises. She was unsure how she felt about this entire evening - it was as if this man was working some kind of strange magic over her, but her tired brain would only allow her one question before going back to sleep. She turned over to him, eyeing him suspiciously.

"You never told me your name." It was the first words she had ever spoken to him, and how captivating the sound was - something reminiscent to a certain boy earl he remembered from many, many years ago. It was childish and innocent, light and airy with hesitance, ending with what was almost a quiet echo.

"Sebastian." He supplied, reaching up to brush a knuckle over his mark on her, loving the way her breath hitched even through the fabric of her nightgown. He never knew having such power over another being would be so satisfying. "Though I have had many names, that's the one you are going to be most comfortable with. You never told me yours, either."

She paused, contemplating, wrinkling her nose. She was silent for several long moments, avoiding eye contact. "You can call me Scout."

"Scout?" He parroted, quirking a brow. "That's not your given name, is it?"

"No." She replied, stopping suddenly, her mouth gape like a dead fish as her sore eyes darted over the threads in the sheets. She appeared uneasy for more reasons than that he was a demon, shaking her head sleepily and then yawning. "But that's what I am. Scout. It's why they found me.. I was scouting for a group against… them."

"Ah." Was all Sebastian could say in reply, though he felt his hands tighten possessively around her as she spoke of her captors. "But they don't have you anymore, do they? So why keep the name?"

She paused again, her response abrupt when she continued. "Because they'll always have me. Behind my eyes, they do." Her voice was no longer that almost infantile, spacious lilt, but an empty space, hollow.

He almost growled, but what ended up escaping him was a rather ominous chuckle. " _Not_ if I have any say in it."

He pulled her even closer if it was possible, his leg wrapping over hers. "I will not allow anyone to touch you again, for you are _mine._ Completely _mine,_ every inch of you, and you will never be anyone else's."

He pulled her up to his face, kissing her on the lips with a shaky resolve to not take her abused body there and then. _"Mine."_

She blushed, eyes wide, numbness keeping her from registering until he dragged his fingertips over the mark again. She gasped, trembling and shying away. He pulled her back in though, wrapping his arms around her, rocking and shushing whenever she whimpered or sobbed. Only when she was finally sound asleep did he allow himself to rest, breathing in her scent to reassure himself that she wasn't moving until he did.

 _Mine,_ was his last conscious thought, his hands cupping over her mark.


	2. Seneca

**A/N:** THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR THE REVIEWS, FOLLOWS, AND FAVORITES! :) And most importantly of all, the patience… O.O The plot is not finished… But I'm getting there. ;)

Keep in mind this is a first draft; that's not necessarily implying there will be a second draft, but it's mentioned to make sure everyone knows I'M SORTA PANTSING THIS. AND I OFTEN LOOSE MY PANTS. So, there is likely to be some disruptions to our 'regularly scheduled' programming. Asand I've got more writing obligations I have to worry about - music, another story on here, so on. So sorry, a few months between chapters will probably be the norm.

Buuuut I would like to AGAIN SAY THANK YOU YOU BOOTY-FUL BABY CAKES AND STUDMUFFINS YOU. You are all so perfect.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything here that isn't mine yada yada I should just put a big disclaimer on my bio...

WARNINGS: Hmmm... Sexual tension, anyone? :] Oh, and some slavery.

* * *

Sebastian woke to a reassurance: slow breaths feathering over his chest. She was still there, curled up beside him, deep in sleep. Sometime in the night, he had removed his shirt, and her shoulder-length hair now tickled him. He reached up slowly so as not to disturb her, grasping a few strands between his fingers and feeling their coarse, but soft texture. Perhaps he could cut the shaggy mane sometime today.

He watched her for a few minutes, using the time to observe what was his. She could be very beautiful, he noted. He had always been scornful of those who catered and fetched on every whim of their mates, droning on and on about their undying devotion towards one another. But now he understood it all looking at her sleeping face. He knew that it was all practically instinctual - it was rather difficult for a demon to not be near their counterpart, and impossible to not guard them from alternative suitors. Males could be especially viscous, jealous and territorial as their species was. Soulmates were not love at first sight, but rather _ownership_ at first sight. Just the thought of that other demon in the cult's layer trying to take the small woman before him had his eyes smoldering and a smoky shadow befalling the room - and how satisfying it was to know that the men that had defiled her had died by his hands.

But, there was much to do, and his schedule left little time to contemplate over his new acquisition. He untangled from her and sat up, shirking the sheets off as he stood from the bed.

Returning from the bathroom a while later in new clothes, he stopped at the door and looked back at his still sleeping mate for a while longer. He tucked the blankets tighter around her when he noticed her shiver, and she let out a breathy sigh as she leaned into his hands. His brows rose, then furrowed, mouth a thin line. Suddenly, he felt so hesitant to leave - there was quite a bit of trouble she could find if she wandered from the bed. Letting out a controlled breath, he turned and walked towards the door. He would only be gone for a while, and she was safe here, he assured himself.

But as the tumbler in the door clicked quietly, she whimpered, clutching onto the sheets.

* * *

Somewhere in the steamy, heady air of hell's layers, a lone shadow stood under the cover of a mountain, all but a dark outline in it's great girth. It was still, unseen by the uncontrolled and tortured, as if waiting.

And waiting it was, for their first movement in many hours was witness by another demon approaching. The first's head flicked to the newcomer when he came close, he rising from the ground as if molting a skin. Neither moved or spoke until the second figure had settled next to the first.

It was quiet for a while after that. Both looked around from underneath the shelf's shadow, relaxing as the minutes ticked by. Then, the first figure turned back to his companion. "What happened?" The voice was toneless, flat, utterly disinterested. He spoke as if to conserve energy, his movements slow and precise.

The other was silent, and the quiet held an edge to it. It kept either from speaking for even a while longer, until the second fidgeted and made a strange growling sound. "It was… Seneca. It was his." The first seemed surprised at this, his lethargic movements fractionally faster as he turned to look at him again. The second held his hand up as to stop the other from making any comment, and then continued. "It was his mate. I didn't get to complete the contract. And the leader is dead."

The first thought over the words carefully, then made a near silent grumble. "It's always something, then, isn't it." It wasn't a question, but rather a statement. The second seemed to shrink but recovered soon after, turning towards the first.

"How is mother and father?" Silence followed, and the second prodded once more: "Have they… mentioned me at all?"

The first suddenly whipped around towards the second, a ominous grumble emanating from deep within his chest. The second flinched, but otherwise froze, waiting for the other to move. The first eventually calmed enough to move away from the other. He sat back on his heels once again, his shoulders hunched and his teeth glinting in the shadows as he spoke. "The answer will always be the same until you change something. Don't ask again, or I _will_ rip your throat out."

It was quiet for a few moments until the first shook his head, again working himself up into a wroth. "I shouldn't even be talking to you. You obviously don't realize how important this is, how _crucial._ You've never seemed to take this seriously, and I'm wondering if you ever plan to."

"B-but I'm working on it." The other spoke up hurriedly, shuffling forward slightly. "I had the contract. I was _this close_ -" - he held up his fingers, showing a margin - "before _he_ stopped me. What was I supposed to do? Fight him? He would've-"

"And it would have been a blessing from God himself, the first given to demons in centuries." The first spat, tiredness in his voice as he stood from his crouch. "I don't care how you do it, but you have to if you want any of us to speak to you again, myself included."

And suddenly the first vanished, leaving the second alone. And after a few moments of uncertainty, he was gone too, leaving the tortured's cries of agony to fill the empty space.

* * *

The lights in the room beckoned her, and she rose from a strange sleep. It had been the most peaceful she'd had in a long time, but towards the end, a restlessness had overcome her. Something was missing, something that was there when she fell into her death-like slumber. And when she looked to find him, she realized he was what was missing.

Illogical panic gripped her, and she dove back into the bed. Her eyes wide and alarmed, she stilled her breaths as her mind raced. He couldn't have left to be gone for long - perhaps he went to find her a meal, or maybe his intentions weren't so kind. Her soul no longer ached, but she still felt the phantom pains in the strange pane of existence. Her reason moaned and called out to her that she was not safe. She sucked in a quick breath and pulled the sheets tighter around her, her hands suddenly moist with sweat.

Her next conclusion was sudden: she couldn't stay here. She had to find the will to move from the bed to the door. After that, she knew instinct would take her to wherever here wasn't.

She paused all her movement, eyes shifting to the lazy glow around the room. It was absolutely quiet here, only the dull embers of the extinguished fire occasionally crackling. Knowing it would be easier all at once, she sat up, discarded the covers, and took to her feet.

Once her bare callouses found the stone floor, she wasn't scared. Old training was all that crossed her mind, emergency plans and explicit instructions were she to ever loose contact with her controller or somehow become estranged. Her breaths evened out, a contrast with her shaking hands.

She marched towards the door with a quick, silent gait, shuffling to the handle and testing it briefly. And when it didn't move beyond jiggling, she suddenly panicked. Kneeling and looking inside, the lock was nothing like anything she had ever seen before. She was not trained to deal with something like this since most of her infantry was through pipes and with stolen ID cards. Rarely did she have to actually break in to the enemy's compounds.

She was trapped, and the realization almost choked her. What would he do when he came back? She fiddled with the doorknob more, testing and tugging incessantly. As her fever picked up, she began hyperventilating, beating on the door. _He's going to eat me. He's going to kill me._

And as she sucked in a breath to scream, the doorknob turned.

The door swung forwards, almost hitting her. Sebastian's amber eyes locked onto her flushed face. A rucksack was against his shoulder, the smell of earth and open air hanging onto his jeans and work shirt. Her mouth hung open in surprise, and she took a step back.

He entered the room, eyes locked onto her as he set down his belongings. "Are you alright?" He asked, sounding concerned. "I heard noises, it sounded like someone was trying to get in. Did anyone hurt you?"

The door was still wide opened but she didn't dare eye it. She didn't know what to say; his sudden appearance had her whole body relaxing despite her reason telling her to be more alert than ever. A sudden desire to be held and comforted by him flooded all of her awareness, and she had to root herself to the spot she stood to not rush towards him. It's as if they were magnetized, the pull was so strong. A deep, hidden instinct was nagging at her, pointing a sly finger at the demon and whispering perverse commands.

As she continued to remain silent, he walked towards her and gripped her shoulders, thumbing the soft nightgown's threads. "Or were you trying to get out, little one? Hmm?" He chuckled, leaning in towards her face as he brushed some of the short hair from here eyes. "My, my, you're eager, if you intended to escape in your sleepwear."

And when he reached up to touch her cheek and flicked some wetness away, her face was suddenly hot. A little hiccup escaped her, and he shushed her in response. "There's no need for that, little one." He sighed. "I shouldn't have expected any less."

He lifted her from the floor and took her back to the bed, setting her down on the edge. She was stifling tears until she remembered something, something he had said.

"W-why did you think that someone was trying to get in?" She mumbled, using her sleeve to swipe at her nose. He grabbed her wrist and set it down, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket. Smiling, he wiped her nose a bit before settling it around her nostrils and letting her blow her nose.

"Why, dear, there are many unsavory characters that would be interested in stealing away my mate. I will have to be careful in the future, on that thought."

His words wound a knot in her stomach, an unsettling feeling suddenly hanging in the air. Her Adam's apple bobbed silently, and then: "Where are we?"

He smiled, looking away as if shy. "Don't tell me you don't know, dear. Where do demons live?"

He turned and began fussing over the supplies he had brought back. By this, he did not see her face begin to pale. "Wh-where?" When he did not respond, she ventured a guess in a deceptively calm voice, her eyes brimming again. "Are we in Hell?"

He chuckled, standing. "Of course. It was a bit too dangerous to keep you on the surface - I was still worried about those cultists following our-"

The door slammed shut, and he turned, finding a room with no human.

* * *

The heady air flowed past her in strange silence as she hurtled down the stone tunnels. Bare feet slapping against the smooth floor, she ran until her lungs ached and then farther. When the torch-lit ambiance began to brighten underneath a menacing sky she stopped.

At the mouth of the cave, the land spread out from the mountaintop she was situated on - horrific darkness dusted with fires and crevasses, going down and down like a ridged funnel. She couldn't see far; the smog was too thick, but in this plane the hills rolled with far off screams, cracks breaking open the earth and weeping ooze.

Craning her head back so far it hurt, she could see nothing but a twilight pane above. Stalactites peeked through the thick clouds. With the roof tinged purple-red and with no celestial body to see, she realized she was truly, surely in the Underworld.

Hanging her head, she thought about what to do. Sebastian would be following close behind. She didn't have much time to decide whether to run or hide. In fact, a demon should have had no trouble finding her by-

"Scout!"

Her head whipped over her shoulder and she looked into the dark cavern. She heard his feet carry him closer, his figure loping out of the darkness. "Scout! Wait!"

The pesky attraction suddenly arose again, the strange need for closeness again abating. She felt so confused, alone, and scared, that she made another dash for the open plains before he latched onto her arm and wouldn't let go.

"Stop." He commanded as she struggled, and when more words wouldn't work, she was suddenly pulled against his chest in a bear hug. Her breaths evened, her eyes closed, and her hands stopped shaking against his warmth. He let out a breath, and she listened intently, feeling his deep exhale. She sighed, a strange tightness in her chest having her gripping his shirt and her eyes squeezing against more fluids. She didn't understand this feeling, but could only place it as guilt.

"Shh," he hushed, guiding her back inside with a glance behind them. She looked up to see his eyes: bright, smoldering with a threat as he looked to the expanse. She remembered his words solemnly - what if she had ventured out there, a place where her kind were tortured? He said that many people would enjoy snatching his mate away - she couldn't help but wonder why, but didn't question the warning.

The walk back to the bedroom was silent and short, and he shut the door perhaps a bit more firmly than necessary. She stood at the edge of the bed and looked up at his face as he approached. His gait almost floated him across the room until he stood inches from her, staring down with an impassive face.

"You're going to make things difficult, aren't you?" He asked bluntly, but his velveteen voice made the cut against her heart shallow and quick. She shuffled her feet, looking down, but he brought her face back up with a finger underneath her chin.

"I'm not playing a game, little one. No one here in hell is, and that is why we must take extra precautions. Do you understand?"

She held his gaze like a scolded child afraid of the rod, but nodded nonetheless. He smiled, leaning down to nuzzle her, the space between them just enough of a stretch to make it incredibly suggestive. He drank in a long inhale of her, murmuring against her neck. "I couldn't have just _anyone_ touching you, now could I?"

She shivered, frozen against him as he hoisted her against his front and carried her to a chair. Sitting her down in his lap, she watched him as he pulled up a small rucksack and placed it between them. Opening it up, he pulled out a perfectly formed apple, holding it up in the dim light.

"Pretty, isn't it?" He murmured, letting her hold it in her hands. She thumbed over the perfect curve from the stem to the tapered end. She could almost see her reflection in the gleaming red. "I have never understood your kind's appetites, but I can appreciate the beauty of some of your foods."

She carefully bit into the fruit, a small spray of juice landing around her mouth and on her lips. She felt a bit nervous under his watchful gaze, but smiled nonetheless at the delicious taste. He petted her hair as she ate until satisfied.

He picked her up and set her in the chair by herself, moving into the bathroom. He came back in a few moments with a small wooden case, and when he opened it, she saw gold-plated brushes, engraved with flowers and leaves, a mirror, comb, and scissors to make a matching set. He set a large cushion on the floor in front of the chair, having her sit.

She spent the next half-hour at the mercy of his tastes, her hair falling to the floor unceremoniously. She had a feeling he could work faster, but his hands were slow and purposeful; brushing over her scalp lightly as he grasped her hair gently, the _snip_ of the scissors methodical. He seemed to be enjoying giving her attention just as much as she enjoyed receiving it, whether she would admit to her pleasure or not.

When he finished, they were both covered in hair and needed to change. She distinctly felt the atmosphere change as he handed her clothes and turned to change into his new set. His sudden nudeness behind her was distracting, but he was much swifter than her, and when she peeked a look behind her she was startled by his captive gaze. She pulled her shirt over her head quickly, her bare chest still unbound by wrappings or a brazier. A deep scarlet colored her pale cheeks.

He crossed the distance between them and held her by her arms, appraising her. "What a beauty," he admired more than praised, pulling her into step with him. As they crossed the threshold into the long corridors of his layer she looked up to him, regaining her bearings.

"Where are we going?" She asked, unsure of their sudden embarkment. He smiled down at her, eyes slit in a strangely forced countenance.

"Why, my dear, there is much to show you," he turned his gaze back ahead, and the subtle shift in the air he seemed to propagate on command waved over them again. She was unsure how he kept doing that, but he seemed incredibly adept at aural communication. This time, the mood was dark, but his voice was almost gleeful.

"And there is much to show others, as well."

* * *

They didn't walk but a few feet from the mouth of the cave when Sebastian stopped them. She struggled for good footing on the craggy hillside, while trying to take in the unusual landscape and what her captor would do next.

Sebastian let go of her hand to bring his hands to his mouth and cup them, and suddenly a shrill whistle shot out at the plain. He let it echo into near silence, only moments passing before something new rose up. A figure emerging from the smog grew clearer and clearer until she could see the purposeful charge of a horse.

It bolted for Sebastian, another following close behind. The creature was unearthly; standing almost twenty hands, it bared unnatural fangs in a grim smile for it's master. Even once standing, it's feet still shuffled and thudded against the rocks, unable to stand still. It's coat was a red so deep it bordered black and it's iris's were a fire.

The second horse to approach was minutely smaller, black as night, mane and tail cascading waves across it's coat. It stuttered to a halt next to the first horse, sniffing around as Sebastian busied with the sorrel. The black turned to Scout, and as it approached the long mane parted long enough for her to see the divide of white across it's chest. It seemed almost as if someone split the animal open to see absolute nothingness.

Sebastian watched calmly as Scout stiffened at the creature's warm breath, the muzzle coming close to her face. She didn't have experience with horses, and especially not hell's version. When the beast opened it's maw to smack and the putrid smell of a fresh corpse rolled over her, she squeaked and back tracked. The beast just followed her and Sebastian chuckled at her dismay.

"He won't hurt you," her host promised. "He likes you."

Scout merely frowned, terrified as the midnight equine began to nuzzle her freshly-groomed hair, it's powerful lip making strange circles. "Why is he doing that?" She raised a hand to bat him away but hesitated.

"He's a bit obsessed with hair." Sebastian smiled. "I would be careful to not let him eat it."

She openly squealed, darting to Sebastian for cover. The two horses supplicated the demon for attention while she watched him slip them pieces of dried meat.

"Is that really what they eat?" She seemed almost accusatory, dismay clear in her voice.

Sebastian stroked the sorrel's neck. "Absolutely. There's no grass to eat in hell, so another of my kind enchanted a line of horses to adapt to the environment."

They both watched the horses for a bit longer before Scout's eyes widened. "Did you… Are we riding them?"

When he gave her the affirmative, it took a long time to convince her to actually mount one of the animals. The calmer horse, Boreas, was assigned to her, and he seemed to enjoy it once she was astride him. The sorrel was a mare - which Sebastian had named Deinos after one of Diomedes' flesh-eating mares. But something about the flash in her eyes warned Scout that she may have just been _the_ Deinos.

They walked slowly, but it only took them around half an hour to reach their destination - a small trading post nestled in the shadow of mountains that cascaded hot lava. She saw little of the countryside through the red-hued haze that dominated the Underworld, but the smog did not impede her hearing. The sounds of the damned echoed far and wide across the landscape, carrying howls she first mistook for wolves reaching her ears and making her start.

She had turned to Sebastian, who rode up ahead. He hadn't appeared concerned that Boreas would wander off in her inexperienced hands. "S-Sebastian, is that-"

He looked over his shoulder. "Well, this is Hell, my dear. Would you expect any less?"

She sat quiet from that point on, listening to the far-off moans as they rode on.

When they reached the town, however, her attention diverted to the activity within. Winding stone paths took them in between buildings, towering objects made of strange metals and rubble from the surrounding terrain. As she passed through, the demons in the street stopped their activity to stare, occasionally a window or door opening to admit more eyes. Sebastian paid no attention to the spectacle they made - and soon enough, the wake they left become nonexistent, and no one bothered her again. She didn't understand how it happened, but it almost seemed as if he again changed the air; how he did it, she might never know.

Sebastian led their horses into the heart of the small town and secured them there. A square about 200 feet across was filled to the brim in the center, a small stage surrounded by a commotion. Scout saw small pens around the edges, but what was in them was unclear. Sebastian led her past the excitement, as they moved on, so she soon got a closer look.

Humans of all ages and sizes stood in a line on the stage. It was hard for her to tell exactly what was happening: a broad-voiced announcer stood on a podium, larger in hand, gesturing to the human standing next to him. She listened to the numbers being shouted out for a few minutes before turning to Sebastian, wide-eyed.

"Are they…?" She let it hang, and while she waited for him to speak she realized she had at some point latched onto the hem of his shirt. A blush bloomed across her face, and she pulled away.

Sebastian didn't seem to notice. "Around half of damned humans are sent to work in hell - laboring in manual work underneath even the lowest demon classes. The other half are sent across the Underworld to auctions in populated areas where demons gather to bid on their souls."

He paused, and she thought he was finished, until he looked down at her with a wolffish smile. "For consumption or… otherwise."

She didn't respond to his innuendo besides turning a bit pale, and then they were going down an empty alleyway. This time she caught the urge to attach herself to him before her body rebelled. She kept her hands fiddling in front of her, her palms warm and moist.

She stayed just a step behind him as she followed him through a few turns until they were on the backside of the small village. Standing before a door, he knocked twice, and waited. She felt him move marginally closer to her as the door opened.

The opened passage was dark, and two purple eyes emerged from the darkness. "Ah, Seneca, you brought your new toy."


End file.
